


Let Me In

by Charliesmusings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, Discussion of character death, Fluff, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Star Wars is gay, biggs is dead and luke is angsty about it, but in a healthy way, but then it gets happy, canon timeline what's that, grief process, it's sad in the beginning during the exposition stuff, luke is healing, post-biggs death, seriously this is cute i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charliesmusings/pseuds/Charliesmusings
Summary: Sometimes a stray illegal radio signal can get picked up by the Yavin IV comms tower, if someone aligns the antennae just right, and when they do, they get to play the music over the loudspeakers, so that the whole second-floor hangar can hear it. The rebels clear as much space as possible in this bay, where dancing is encouraged, and the liquor flows just a little bit easier. These nights are few and in between, but always boost morale. Luke has seen four of these nights, but has danced on none of them. Until a dark-haired pilot with a brilliant grin decides to change that.Set in the period of six months between the Battle of Yavin and when the rebels have to abandon the base. Luke would be 19, Wedge would be 21.





	Let Me In

Luke had only ever danced when Biggs dragged him to clubs on Tatooine with a handful of their friends, back when they were fifteen, and they still pretended they hadn’t been making out on Luke’s bed hours earlier. That was back when the bouncers never checked their fake Imp IDs, which Biggs always thought was annoying because of how hard he’d worked to get his; how hard they’d all worked to get theirs. It wasn’t easy to find someone who would use their forgery skills to make false Imp IDs. Most forgers used their skills to get criminals and other outlaw types off-planet, safe from any Imp suspicion—The Empire was a terrifying force to reckon with, even to some of the most hardened criminals; no one could blame them, though. With the numbers they moved around like a terrifyingly well-oiled machine, it was no wonder that there was a scarcity of recruits to the Rebel Alliance. This was partly why the Rebs were so respected among civilian circles, though perhaps respect isn’t the word for it; it was more like a mixture of respectful fear, as no one wanted to be near someone they knew was Reb—it usually meant trouble. Most beings weren’t in the mood for dealing with much trouble, if they avoid it.

Luke himself hadn’t ever thought he’d wind up involved in the trouble that Rebs brought with them, even when Biggs had told him of his plans, on their last night together, at Tosche. And yet, there was something so seductive about the way his pulse raced when he flew an X-Wing toward a Star Destroyer. The taste of metal in his mouth when he’d come up close to the Death Star in the Battle of Yavin. The way he’d felt like he could soar by himself through the starry expanse of space, without an X-Wing in sight. When he’d gotten those shots in, feeling like the luckiest kid in the entire galaxy. 

But then he’d landed. And Biggs wasn’t there to congratulate him like he should have been, and it was just these new people that he’d hardly known for long enough to call more than acquaintances. Sure, they were friends, and there was something about almost dying together on several occasions that really bonded people, but he hadn’t gotten to hug Biggs, who he’d known for all his life, or watch that stupid mustache that he’d grown out so he could look older twitch with a victorious smile. Luke wasn’t a boy with a crush; he wouldn’t fool himself that way. But Biggs had meant more to him than just someone to hold when he was feeling lonely, was more to him than his childhood friend that he’d kissed more times than he could count, back when they were both figuring things out. Biggs had been Luke’s closest partner in everything they’d done together, never just a friend, but never a romantic partner, either. They’d never cared for labels, really. Biggs had actually been trying to get with a pilot in the Blue Squadron, before he’d—…before the Battle. Luke had laughed and joked and sat for hours with Biggs, catching up with him for days before the Battle, and he’d expected plenty of time after, too. He’d expected to see Red Three already landed in the hangar by the time he got back, but then he’d only seen one other X-Wing in Red Squadron’s section of the hangar, and he’d felt his stomach plummet, as he finally listened to what the force had been trying to tell him for too long during that fight.

Even though he knew the truth, he’d still half-hoped to see his best friend’s head pop up from the ship, run over to him, congratulate him, mourn with him, hold him. But it had been Red Two, Wedge Antilles—the man who he’d lately been getting to know slowly, at first as a mentor, now as a friend. He’d chosen to room with Antilles after that, not really wishing to be around someone who hadn’t been on his squadron; at least Wedge would know Biggs’ name. At least he had been Biggs’ friend. For four months, now, since the Battle of Yavin, he’d had Wedge there to help him mourn. It was still hard, but with Wedge there, he’d made a lot of progress. He was able to feel happy now, more often than not, and he could get through whole days without turning into an utter wreck because he’d turned to say something to Biggs, only to shut his mouth, and try and act like he hadn’t just been about to talk to the ghost in his head. 

Han and Leia had been helping, too, obviously, but they didn’t see him when he couldn’t sleep at night, staring at the ceiling, unable to stop watching the Battle over and over again, even when he shut his eyes. Wedge had caught him up in the late hours of the night once, a couple weeks after the Battle, when it was still really bad. Luke hadn’t slept a wink, so he’d finally given up on it, deciding the least he could do was get in some lightsaber training if he wasn’t sleeping. He’d silently slipped out of his bunk, above Wedge’s, and he had been convinced he’d done it quietly, so when Wedge’s hand slipped out from his blanket and grabbed Luke’s wrist, he’d nearly squawked in shock. Wedge grumbled a sleepy, “Don’t you dare… get back here. You need to sleep, laserbrain.”

Luke hadn’t really known what to do, so he’d just nodded, trusting that Wedge could see it, and attempted to take his wrist back. Instead, Wedge had just tugged Luke toward his own bunk, sitting up a little, to scoot over and allow Luke some room. Luke had stared at the pilot like he was crazy, but Wedge just stared back expectantly. After a few long moments of this, Wedge smirked slightly, the corners of his mouth turning up, and spoke in a sleep-gruff voice, “Loth-cat got your tongue?”

This snapped Luke out of it and he scowled at the pilot, “Shut up. Let me go; I can get to my own bunk.”

Wedge sighed like he’d heard that before and leveled Luke with a serious look, “You’re going to try to get up again, and then you won’t sleep at all. I have to ensure that you don’t go anywhere, which means you’re bunking with me, in my bed. If you sleep now, you may not feel like hell when we have to get to breakfast tomorrow.” It sounded like he’d had almost this exact conversation before.

Luke frowned, “I don’t know…” 

Wedge groaned, sitting up all the way, pulling the blankets back for Luke, “Don’t make me pull rank on you, rookie.”  
Luke snorted, not believing that Wedge would do it; little did both of them know that Luke would be promoted to Rogue Leader a few weeks after that night. He rolled his eyes, but he saw that Wedge wasn’t budging on the issue, and he figured perhaps giving in would be better than wasting effort on resisting.   
Luke had slept better that night than he had in weeks, and waking up to Wedge’s arms wrapped tightly around him, “to keep you from getting up, flyboy, now relax,” wasn’t as awkward as he’d expected it would be. 

They’d been sleeping in the same bed since. 

Luke tried to pretend that the intimacy hadn’t gotten to him, but it had. He didn’t want to replace Biggs, but Wedge seemed to be in Luke’s orbit, on the trajectory of quickly becoming one of his closest companions. 

Which was why he’d put Wedge in Rogue Three. He tried to pretend it didn’t taste bitter in his mouth when Antilles looked a little hurt that he’d chosen someone else to be his second, and not him, but when he’d eaten lunch later that day, the food had tasted like he was eating the ashy remains of scrap metal. (He would later come to be intensely glad that Wedge was three and not two, because of what happens to Dak Ralter, the pilot he’d chosen as his second, on Hoth, in a few months).

(He immediately feels guilty when he thinks that, only a few short standard hours after Dak’s death).

Tonight, however, as he was leaning against the front left landing leg of his X-Wing, he felt a comforting lightness in his chest, as he watched his friends, his squadron, and his allies laugh and dance together to the rhythm of the definitely-not-Imp-approved radio signal that was blaring music that the Empire had definitely banned. 

This was the fifth night he’d ever seen this, in the four months since the Battle, and he’d decided that these were his favorite nights. Not everyone was there, as the absence of en-mission allies weighed heavily as a certain light in some people’s eyes, but everyone was there in spirit. Underneath the noted absence of the living, however, was also the deeper-running, better-hidden-until-behind-closed-doors, weight of the absence of lost comrades. However, just because many people hid their afflictions of this, did not mean there was not evidence of those they had lost—the booze intake on that night, and other nights like it, was more than enough to demonstrate the hurt that the Rebel Alliance was going through. 

Luke was no stranger to Corellian spirits, seeing as how he was a good three standard years past the legal drinking age, and he’d pretended to be above the drinking age at least a year before that. He sipped at a dented metal cup filled with Corellian whiskey, but this time, the one cup was all he would let himself drink. He didn’t want to drink like he did a few nights after the Battle. He was lucky Wedge had been familiar with hangover cures; the day after would have been an even worse hell than it already had been without his help. That was also approximately the night that Wedge had started really trying to help Luke through the mourning process. It had started because Wedge was supposed to be watching over Luke, helping him adjust to Reb life, and with time, and two similar senses of humor, it had grown much closer to friendship than mentorship. 

Luke was staring down at the last bit of whiskey in his cup when a voice roused him from his thoughts, startling him a bit.

“Hey there, Mr. Hero of the Rebellion; what’re you doing over here for?” Wedge grinned brightly at his friend.

Luke smirked back, “Avoiding socialization in true Jedi fashion.”

Wedge rolled his eyes, “And how would you know what Jedi do? You met one, once.”

“And he was anti-social, so as far as I know, that’s exactly how Jedi all act.” Luke shot back, an easy smile working across his features. 

Wedge laughed, looking down a moment, before he fixed a more serious look onto Luke; it was confusing to Luke—he couldn’t tell what emotions were mixed into it, but he supposed he didn’t have to be able to read exactly what Wedge’s face said to be able to tell what he was about to ask.  
“Dance with me, Luke?” He asked, as he had, for the past four times they’d done this. 

Luke sighed, prepared to decline, as he had every time, except Wedge had been expecting this, and cut him off before he could say anything, “Wait, wait, wait—just, hear me out. You don’t like dancing because it reminds you of him, right? I figured it out; that’s why you don’t like it. You have this look in your eye when you remember him. It’s always… really noticeable on these nights. Now, look, I’m also not the slowest ship in the galaxy. I know you don’t want me to be a replacement for him. I’ve seen this in many other recruits, on both sides.” He said, sounding far too wise for his age for a moment, “Now, I know I can’t replace him, and I don’t want to. I like to think I’m better than that. And I also like to think that you’re better than the type of person who would only see a person in only one way. Don’t you see me as more than just a replacement friend, Luke?” He asked gently, already aware of the answer to this. 

Luke smiled softly, starting to realize that his night was going to go a bit differently than he’d planned, “You’re right. You’re more than that, Wedge.”   
Wedge nodded like he’d already known this. He trusted Luke’s friendship; he didn’t think Luke would be the type to treat his friends like that. He hadn’t ever doubted him.

Luke sighed resignedly, before shooting his friend a wry smile, “Alright… you got me this time. Let’s dance.”

He drained the rest of his cup, placed it on the lower wing of his ship, and took Wedge’s hand laughing when he saw Wedge’s shocked expression. Wedge cleared his throat and got his composure back, raising his eyebrows at Luke, as they walked hand-in-hand toward the other dancers, “I take it my superb argument wasn’t the only thing that compelled you into this.” He could read Luke terrifyingly well, “What changed?”

Luke hummed as they reached the other dancers, and turned to face each other. Wedge placed one hand on Luke’s hip, and another on the small of his back. Luke’s hands found their way to wind around Wedge’s neck. It was intimate, but it was not actually physically the closest he’d ever been to Wedge; the bunk they shared wasn’t exactly fit for spreading out. They swayed back and forth, slow and easy, to the casual beat of the song, played with a happy tune and an upbeat rhythm, exactly the type of thing to boost the Rebs’ spirits and make them happier, for at least one night. 

Luke thought about his answer, looking anywhere but at Wedge’s considerably close face, “I… realized that Biggs would have wanted me to dance. He would have wanted me to live my life. Someone reminded me of that recently.” He risked glancing up at Wedge’s face, solely to shoot him a pointed look.

Wedge grinned; he’d mentioned that a few nights ago, when Luke had woken from a nightmare, guilt having been the biggest feature in the dream. He’d hugged Luke close and reminded him that any version of Biggs that was angry at Luke for living his life after his death was a Biggs that was nowhere near how he’d really been in his lifetime. Luke had finally realized the truth of that.

“Gee, I wonder who said that. He must be really smart. And handsome. And a super talented pilot.” He joked.

Luke laughed, “And humble, too.”

Wedge just shrugged, grinning, knowing they both knew he’d been kidding. He wasn’t nearly that arrogant. That was Han’s burden to shoulder (but the man was humble where it counted). 

Luke snorted, “So, do you dance with all the newbies, or am I special?”

Wedge laughed, “Luke, you’re definitely pretty special. Only one person I know could’ve done what you did with that Death Star. Just don’t let it go to your head, those fancy powers of yours.”

It was Luke’s turn to shrug, “I think you could’ve done it, too. You’re the best pilot I know, Wedge.”

Said pilot looked down, frowning a bit, “Is that why you chose Dak over me, last week?” He said, before he coughed awkwardly, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring that up.”

Luke bit his lip guiltily, “Wedge—”

“No, no. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re my leader, now. I don’t have a right to question you.” Wedge frowned.

Luke sighed, halting his movements, but he didn’t break contact, or move away, “Wedge, I—I needed you on someone else because you’re the best pilot I know.”

Wedge looked at him with a deadpan look in his eyes, “Luke, the least you could do if you’re gonna try and explain yourself is to not give me a load of sithspit.”

Luke winced; he’d always been a horrid liar. He took a deep breath, “Sorry… I just…” he fumbled for words, finding it difficult to think of what he could say.

Wedge looked at him like he was considering something, and then stepped back, breaking their contact. He frowned, and Luke feared that he’d really done it now, until Wedge gestured for Luke to follow him, as he started toward the exit that led deeper into the temple. He glanced at Luke over his shoulder, “Come with me to the comms tower.”

Luke blinked in confusion but decided that his best chance of coming back from this with their friendship intact was to follow Wedge. 

As they walked toward the lift, he stopped to really think about why he’d put Wedge in Rogue Three. He’d told himself it was because he didn’t Wedge to get too close, or he’d feel like he was replacing Biggs with Wedge, but he should have known that Wedge wouldn’t let that happen. He should have known that Wedge would never let himself be that, and he wouldn’t let Luke pigeonhole him that way, either. He frowned. So why did he still feel like he wanted Wedge in Rogue Three? Why did he still want to push Wedge away, keep him at arm’s reach? Why did it feel like, if he let the man in, let him be closer, that they’d end up changed; that they might get hurt? That someone would get burned?

…why didn’t he know which of them would end up burned? 

Wedge kept the lead, walking in silence through the mostly empty hallway—nearly everyone was in the second floor hangar, with just a few people milling about here and there. They didn’t seem to think anything was out of place to see Wedge and Luke together. It was a common sight, to see the pair together. If anything, people looked around when one of them was alone, expecting to see the other, and almost looked a little confused if they weren’t together. Luke realized that maybe they’d been spending more time together than he’d even really been aware of. Wedge’s presence was just so… nice to be around. He was easy to hang around with, easy to joke with, and beyond easy to lose track of time with. Huh. He hadn’t really understood the extent of their friendship until now. He was Luke’s closest friend, now.   
But something in Luke’s chest seemed to twist uncomfortably when he thought the word ‘friend.’ He wanted to slap himself. Was he really that hung up on Biggs that he couldn’t have any friends anymore?

Luke’s feet had been carrying him sort of numbly through the base, so when the lift deposited them at the very tip top level of the temple, where their communications rig was set up, he was shocked out of his thoughts by the mild wind, and the starry night sky, expanding like an endless dome above their tiny heads when he looked out the large empty spaces in the walls, like enormous windows, halfway up the stone, stretching for most of the wall’s length. He took in the sight with a gaping mouth. He had taken in this scene from his X-wing, sure, but it was a limited view, and it wasn’t quite the same as standing up high, looking down, mostly exposed to the open air. He was surprised to see no one up here, but he supposed it was a slow night. No attacks were expected for tonight. For once.   
For once, everything was peaceful. From the music, to the sway of the trees, to the warm, gentle wind, to the way the stars twinkled above them, the way the only obstruction in the sky was now a real moon—not a Death Star, not a Star Destroyer, nothing. Just a huge moon, and gorgeous stars. 

And Wedge. 

Wedge was looking at him, eyes shining with a strange light, a light that no one had ever had in their eyes when they looked at Luke before, not even Biggs. Wedge looked like he wanted to do something, but he made no movement. He spoke after a second of… something passed between their gazes. He said softly, “I suppose you want to know why I took you up here.”

Luke didn’t trust his voice right now, so he nodded.

Wedge finally moved, walking to the huge window, leaning against the bottom half of the wall, folding his arms on the ledge of the huge window. He stared out at the horizon, which seemed farther away than it ever had before. Perhaps it was just that Luke wasn’t looking at it, but Wedge, instead. He followed to stand next to the other man, looking at him in confusion. Wedge didn’t look back, but kept staring out. He spoke just as quietly as before, as if speaking too loud would shatter… this. Whatever this was, Luke thought.

“There’s something about going to a private place with a nice view that makes people open up.” He said. Luke was once again reminded that Wedge seemed to have done this too many times before. Help people talk to him, open up to him. He was good at that—getting people to open up, to trust him. Perhaps it was because he was so kind and friendly. He was a people-person, easily. Everything Luke thought he, himself, wasn’t. So maybe that was why he started talking.

“Wedge… I—” Luke faltered, and Wedge remained silent, but turned to look at him, to show that he was paying rapt attention, eyes roaming over Luke’s face, as if searching for something. Luke hoped he could find what he was looking for, as he felt the words nearly drawn out of him by Wedge’s silence, “I know you’re the best pilot in the Rebellion. I know that you deserve to be squad leader more than I ever will. I know that you could outfly Dak Ralter any day of the week, though he’s good, too. He wouldn’t be on Rogue if he wasn’t. I’ve… never had this kind of power. To get to decide things for people. Tell people what to do. Lead. You have more than enough experience to be an amazing leader. You know what you’re doing. In everything. And when you don’t, you figure out a solution so quickly that it’s almost like you knew exactly what you were doing, anyway. I have no kriffing clue what I’m getting myself into; what to do with you all. I can’t trust myself to be a good leader. I can’t even trust myself to let—” Luke hesitated for a moment, feeling the truth start to arise in his stomach, clawing its way up to his throat, sticking there, lying in wait for its chance to burst forth. He pushed on, licking his lips, missing the way that Wedge watched him do so, because Luke was looking anywhere but Wedge’s eyes, now, no matter how much it made him feel like a coward, “I can’t even trust myself to let you get so close to me; I know it sounds stupid, just… just hear me out. I’m…” Luke looked at Wedge desperately, finally dropping his walls, “I’m scared, Wedge,” his voice cracked, “I’m so scared of what it means if I let you in. Of what it could mean to me, what it could mean for us. I’m scared that if you get too close, I… I’ll…” He didn’t know how he could have missed it before. 

All the times he wondered why his stomach swooped when Wedge appeared, all the times he wondered why his chest twisted these past couple weeks when he thought the word friend in accompaniment to Wedge’s name, all the times his heart went wild when Wedge held him close and kept him safe in his arms. He liked Wedge.

So why did he start lying again?

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you…” He said, though it wasn’t what his heart was saying.

Wedge raised a skeptical eyebrow, stared at Luke’s face, which was in profile to him now, as Luke guiltily closed himself off from Wedge, and then let out a disdainful scoff.

He pushed off from the wall, crossing his arms, as he started to walk toward the elevator. He glared at Luke as he passed him, “If you’re going to lie to me, the least you could do is just tell me that you don’t want to tell me the truth. I thought—… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought you were going to say. I just thought, maybe, you respected me enough to actually tell me the truth.”

Luke gave a desperate noise in the back of his throat and grabbed for Wedge’s upper arm, to keep him from walking away. Wedge uncrossed his arms and smacked Luke’s hand away, taking a step back. Unfortunately, he was too close to a flat-top comms rig, and started tipping backwards, and Luke surged forward and grabbed Wedge’s wrists, holding him up from falling. Their eyes were wide, and they stared at each other for a moment, the only sound for a few seconds, their mingling pants from the surprise of the moment. 

All of a sudden, they began laughing. The sheer relief from having not broken the comms rig had shattered all of the tension between them, and they laughed till laughter tears appeared at the corners of their eyes. Wedge straightened himself up, and Luke stepped back, pressing his back to the window ledge, resting his elbows on it. 

Wedge leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees to help him stand as he laughed. Unfortunately, all good things never last. Luke watched Wedge from his place against the wall, and as he watched Wedge’s face, his gorgeous face, split into a gorgeous, happy expression—happier than he probably should have been for someone experiencing heartbreak. But Luke didn’t know about the heartbreak thing. He was just admiring Wedge’s face, not realizing the danger of that, until his heart was cracking painfully, and his laughter morphed itself in the most unnerving way into crying. He stood sharply, covering his face with one hand, as he felt himself start to cry, for the first time since the night he’d cried himself to sleep after blowing up the Death Star. 

Wedge’s laughter slowed as Luke’s laughter changed, and he halted altogether when he saw Luke hide his face, turning his shoulders away from Wedge, as if that would be enough to hide his tears from Wedge. It wasn’t nearly a good enough cover, even if the sounds of his sobs hadn’t been enough to give it away. 

Wedge couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at Luke anymore. He was a broken, confused soul, torn apart by the death of a friend. Of course, that didn’t excuse the fact that he wasn’t telling Wedge the truth, but it did help Wedge forgive Luke for it. Even if it had been a lie, Wedge knew a part of Luke really didn’t want to hurt him, and if that even partially informed his decision to distance Wedge, then he could understand. But Wedge knew the truth that Luke wasn’t admitting; he’d suspected for a while now, and this had all but confirmed it. 

In less than the blink of an eye, Wedge was taking hold of Luke’s arms, shoulders, turning him, pulling him in, almost crushing the boy into his shoulder. Luke’s arms wound their way around Wedge’s waist, and Wedge curled his own arms around Luke’s shoulders, pressing him close, holding him in an embrace that could barely be called anything less than a near-merging of two hurting souls, trying to find comfort within each other.

Wedge rocked them back and forth, rubbing a hand up and down Luke’s back, making comforting hushing noises, as he tried to soothe the other man as best he possibly could. Words weren’t necessary right now. They just needed to hold each other, and be close, and for the moment, it was enough.

As Luke’s sobs finally seemed to get quieter, give way to hiccups and soft sniffles, Wedge reached up a hand to cup the back of Luke’s head, pushing it more into the place where his neck and shoulder met, finding that was usually more comfortable, and comforting, giving little mind to the wetness that would spread on his shirt and skin, as he let his hand stroke Luke’s hair calmingly.

Eventually, Luke became completely quiet, and Wedge urged him to take deep breaths to relax, and bring his breathing back to normal. Luke obeyed, breathing in time with Wedge’s breaths, as he finally raised his head, to look at Wedge, who gently wiped away Luke’s tears with his thumbs, holding Luke’s jaw in both hands. He smiled softly at Luke, who sniffled once and tried to offer a smile in return. He didn’t, but Wedge saw the effort in his eyes, and moved his hands to hold Luke’s hips, forcing the younger to place his hands on Wedge’s shoulders, as Wedge swayed their bodies, turning them in mindless circles. They were dancing once again, the music still playing from the illegal radio station. 

It was quiet, peaceful, as they danced all through the available space at the top of the temple, every now and then catching glances out at the nature laid out below them through the windows.

Wedge looked at Luke with a soft expression, “Are you ready to tell yourself the truth?” He whispered, “If you’re not, then that’s okay, and I won’t ask until you bring it up. But if you’re ready… I’m ready to hear it.” He smiled once again, and Luke felt his heart race for an exhilarating moment. 

He could do this, as long as Wedge kept looking at him like that.

Luke nodded, taking a shuddery deep breath, “Yeah… yes. I am. Wedge, I… am scared to let you be so close because I’m afraid of… of getting myself hurt.”

Wedge nodded, but made no effort to speak. He wanted Luke to keep going.

So he did. 

“I’m afraid that I’ll get attached, and then you’ll d—…you’ll die,” his voice broke on that metallic-tasting word, “And then I won’t have you anymore, and I’ll… never be okay again, and I won’t have anyone anymore to help me get back up, and I just—I can’t lose you, Wedge, and I… I tried to guard against that, so I pushed you away,” Luke was admitting this all to himself just as much as to Wedge, maybe more than to Wedge, “And now…” he bit his lip, uncertain if it was an appropriate time to say this.

Wedge furrowed his brow, “Now…?” he’d thought that was it, predicted that would be it, but now Luke was hitting on something he didn’t predict, and he was suddenly not prepared for what would come next. It was thrilling and terrifying in the best of ways. Luke always did surprise him.

Luke’s breath was shaky again, “Now… Now something has changed, and I—um. I don’t know what to do…” he whispered, “I don’t know what to do…”  
Wedge had to lean closer to hear him. And now he was really close, and it felt wrong to speak in anything louder than a whisper, so he did just that, and whispered back, “What does your gut tell you to do?”

Luke met Wedge’s eyes, impossibly light blue meeting deep, oak brown, and though Luke’s eyes could be icily piercing sometimes, Wedge’s eyes punched through people’s exteriors, shattering the facades they put up, cutting deep, to the root. 

Luke swallowed, “It tells me that… maybe risks are worth it… that even though this might be too fast, too quick, it will be worth taking the chance… because things happen too quickly in our lives already...” in a complete turnaround from what Luke’s life used to be, on Tatooine, where every day was slow and almost boring, even on days that were so busy, Luke wouldn’t sit once until he curled up in bed to prepare for the next day. But here, in the rebellion… everything moved as the speed of light, and Luke was almost addicted to it, the way everything would never stop, and how something was always happening. It wasn’t until Wedge had taught him how nice a lazy day off was, that he’d finally been able to appreciate the calm. 

Wedge raised his eyebrows expectantly, encouraging Luke to continue. He watched Luke’s face carefully, a sense of anticipation rising up in his stomach. It almost sounded like…

“Can I—… kiss you, Wedge?” Luke nearly breathed. “I’d really like to kiss you, but I need you to say yes because if you don’t want to kiss me, I don’t want to force you into a kiss, and I really want this to go ri—”

Wedge beat Luke to it. 

Oh… this was… something new… something that stirred something inside Luke that he had never felt before… it was like the first time he’d connected with the force, the first time he’d ignited a lightsaber, the first time he’d raced, the first time he’d gone on a late night speeder cruise, the wind whipping his hair and clothes all over the place, so far from even the most remote sandpeople outcropping, in open desert, sand flying in clouds behind him, as he stared openly at the massive expanse of stars that stretched for an eternity over the dark sky, the longer he stared, the most stars made themselves visible, and he got lost the deeper into space he saw, his world becoming just him and the galaxy, stretching and stretching, embracing him, enticing him; it was like the first time he’d heard the stars calling for him, reaching out a hand for him to take, to grasp, like a destiny-giver, trying to pull him into something that would change his life forever. 

It was warm, a little wet, a gentle intensity, their noses not quite out of each other’s way. Luke’s hands fisted in Wedge’s shirt—he hadn’t worn his flight suit today, for once, having this day off—and pulled him closer. One of Wedge’s hands was resting where Luke’s back curved, and the other was splayed out between Luke’s shoulder blades, pressing his chest forward, against where Luke’s hands were, bending his wrists almost awkwardly, a fact that Luke hardly paid mind to. Wedge’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes catching on some of the twinkling starlight, and Luke’s eyes had fallen half-way shut, but he couldn’t bring himself to close them all the way, wanting instead to stare at how beautifully flushed Wedge’s cheeks had become. He was already feeling this moment searing into his mind, and he wanted to remember every part of it, down to the way his toes were curling in response to the supernova in his stomach, hot and brilliant, to the way Wedge’s mouth was a bare millimeter opened, and Luke could feel the warmth of his mouth bleeding into his own lips, heating up the chapped skin, bitten raw from a bad nervous habit. 

And then Wedge was pulling back, eyes fluttering open, and Luke’s gaze was drinking in the sight of Wedge post-kiss, deciding that it was one of his favorite Wedge faces, right up there with mischievous smirk and mid-unabashed laughter, as he let his hands relax, and slide down to Wedge’s hips, as Wedge’s hands met around Luke’s waist, encircling it, and pulling, so that now, not only their chests were pressed together, but the rest of their bodies had aligned, hip to hip. Luke’s feet didn’t move; he had curved up to meet Wedge, so now he stepped closer, one of his thighs pressing to Wedge’s, the other foot planted to help him keep steady as he raised that leg pressed against Wedge’s, hooking their knees together, to get Wedge to step forward and close any gap that might have existed between them. Their breaths were slow, languid, as Luke appreciated the slight burn in his lungs that had come from letting the kiss go on a few microseconds too long. He gave a soft laugh when Wedge had to step forward to keep from falling, due to Luke’s pressure on the inside of his knee, and he shot Luke a glare, that was kind of really ruined by the amused upturn in the corners of his lips. Luke smiled ‘innocently’ back at him, and Wedge rolled his eyes, “Don’t gimme that—I know you too well to be fooled by that innocent farm boy act. I don’t know how so many people in the Rebellion actually do.”

Luke laughed a bit louder this time, shrugging, “Maybe you’re just cynical. I’m as innocent as can be, Rogue Three.”

Wedge snorted and moved one hand down to gently hit Luke’s ass, a movement that made Luke give an indignant noise and shoot his own glare at Wedge, who was grinning at him with absolutely zero remorse, “Don’t be facetious.” 

Luke stuck his tongue out at Wedge, who chuckled in response, “Screw being a squad leader, you’re still as a mature as a greenie, Skywalker.”

Luke hummed softly, “Well then how come you take my orders, Captain? “

“I dunno, Rogue Leader, why am I Rogue Three?” Wedge didn’t have any heat in his voice anymore; he finally had a real answer to the question. Now was his turn to be facetious. Also to give Luke a slightly hard time about it—he reserved the right to mess with Luke about that for the pain it had initially caused. If it became an issue, they’d talk to each other—he had faith in their communication. He’d stop if it actually hurt Luke.

It didn’t seem to anymore, but he did roll his eyes, letting go of Wedge’s hips to throw up his hands and huff, “I try and keep my feelings safe one time!” he laughed, and Wedge shot him a look.

“Protect your feelings, my ass; next time, just me in.” he gave Luke a pointed raise of his eyebrows.

Luke felt a brilliant smile spread across his face, “I will.”

He reached back down to put one hand on Wedge’s hip, and another on the back of Wedge’s neck, tugging him into another soft kiss.

Wedge believed him.


End file.
